


Error

by unethicalcoffee



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - J. Sheridan Le Fanu
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:56:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unethicalcoffee/pseuds/unethicalcoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A seductress seduced, and by what? If love is selfless, Carmilla loses everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Error

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the scene from the Le Fanu novella in which a funeral procession passes by.  
> On tumblr: http://toukoyaki.tumblr.com/post/100597756439/error

It is a ringing in her ears. No, not a ringing - bells ring, church bells, round and strong and sweet - this is a  _screeching_ , a long, low, high sound, drawn out like the horizon and teetering just as much on the line between seen and unseen, heard and unheard. Even in her agony, Carmilla can spare some amount of (albeit cynical) appreciation for the appropriateness of her tortures. Homeless, aimless; half-breeds, just as she is.

"Don’t you perceive how discordant that is?"

Her fingers scurry between the folds of her skirt, curling and gripping as the note continues to cut at her ears, not hacking, but draining, eroding. Elle places a small hand upon Carmilla’s shoulder, half at her dress’ beginning and half at her skin’s end. Carmilla’s eyes snap up, prepared for the onslaught of disapproval that this will doubtless afford, caring little. Yet Elle is neither apprehensive, nor confused, nor angered; rather she lowers herself beside Carmilla, gripping her arm, regarding her with earnest concern.

"I perceive how discordant it is to  _you_ , sweet Carmilla. You appear to be in absolute agony! Oh, dearest,” she pleads, pulling closer, “I am sorry that we should have come out today; to remind you, as the case must be, of that which you long to forget!”

Some story she told; a dead father or sister, perhaps. If the hymns drain the life of Carmilla’s ears, Elle’s words drain the life that she has stolen from others. Who ever heard of a rich girl whose piety was not unshakable? A girl who would ensure another’s comfort before paying her respects to the dead?

"Well," Carmilla murmurs, "it is just that - well, you must die -  _everyone_  must die, and all are much happier when they do.”

And no moment could serve for better proof. As Elle’s fingers find Carmilla’s own, shaking through fabric, a dead woman dies again.

"Oh Carmilla," she whispers, her breath casting a fog that heals while yet distorting, "I should never be happy to die, should it mean that we were parted."

This, she thinks, is the moment she loses it all. The ringing, yes, but not that alone. A seductress seduced, and by what? If love is selfless, Carmilla loses everything.

And she does. When they kiss, she is nothing, and never can be again.


End file.
